Page 72 of Bitter Confessions

Again, that quick, level look. “So could you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rami.”

She stared, uncomprehending.

“He has his hands in most of the major online retailers.”

She’d been thinking about starting a petition to appeal to the manager who’d made such a call, while Roth wanted to go to the programmer who’d created the infrastructure the retailer operated within.

“I’ve never asked my family for a favor like that before.”

She never allowed herself to think about her family’s connections when it came to her writing career. She wanted to do it on her own; to know she possessed enough talent for people to pick up her work and talk about it without money pushing her to the forefront. Maybe it was foolish to think that way. Her dad had thought so. He’d urged her to go the traditional route instead of being independent, but she didn’t want anyone telling her what she should write, when she should deliver, and measure her success by their standards. Most of all, she refused to be forced into the limelight. Her writing career was hers, and she didn’t want anyone to attribute her success to her family’s influence. But for Johanna Ledger...

“I’m sure Rami wouldn’t mind looking into it,” Roth said.

She bit her lip as she battled her aversion to asking her family for anything and bringing attention to her interests when they had more important things to do. “I’m hoping enough authors and readers rallying around Johanna will be enough.”

Even to her own ears she sounded doubtful.

“I’ll look into it. I wouldn’t be where I am without access to books. I don’t like the thought of anyone deciding what people can or can’t read.”

“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt sincerity.

He brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Sounds like you had an eventful day.”

She let out a dreamy sigh. “I finished a great book, spoke to my idol, had coffee and cookies, and then had great sex. I have nothing to complain about.”

He smiled against her palm. “You had coffee with Sarai and then came to me? Did you make any other stops?”

The odd question made her brows bunch together. “Why do you want to know if I made any other stops?”

“I’m curious.”

“Isn’t that something that would be noted in today’s observation report?”

“Yes, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

“Why? If my reports are anything like Colette and Ariana’s, they took photographs, jotted down what I ordered, and recorded how long I spoke to Sarai. Do you tell them to count how many times I smile or laugh?” She yanked on her hand, but he tightened his grip, holding her captive. “What is all this documentation for? Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Six months from now, you could receive a stalker letter or photographs of what you did today, and you’d be hard-pressed to remember where you went and why. Details that seem insignificant make all the difference in the world. Who you bumped into, a trash can you might have dropped your cup in... Everything matters. Others may be making their own observation reports of your movements, your security team, your habits. I intend to be one step ahead of everyone and ready for any circumstance.” He took in her dumbfounded expression and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

“And you do?”

He stared straight ahead, the lines in his face deepening into a dark scowl. “Yes.”

She digested that for a minute before she said, “My father made many enemies, but even he never felt the need to take such precautions.”

“I’m not your father.”

“I realize that,” she said quietly, all the warm and fuzzy feelings fading away to be replaced with worry. “What kind of enemies do you have, Roth?”

He navigated traffic as efficiently as Mo and Johan even though she sensed his mind was elsewhere—somewhere bleak and grim.

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